Simple and Clean
by GirlInTheMirror121
Summary: Prince Kurt is madly in love with Samuel Evans, the woodcutter's son. Their romance is a secret to all, especially the King and Queen. Kurt/Sam oneshot. Will their forbidden love survive? **NEW** disregard the last posting of this.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Simple and Clean.**

**Note: This is my first Sam/Kurt story. Please, please review. It gets a little smutty towards the ending; just a warning. **

"Samuel? Is that you?" Kurt whispered from around the corner.

"Yes. Yes, it's me," came the familiar voice.

"Oh, Samuel!" Kurt whipped around the corner at warp speed, straight into his lover's arms. "Samuel," he cried softly as the blonde boy held him close. "Samuel…"

"I am here, Kurt. I have always been here for you."

"I have missed you," the brunette murmured. "I've missed you so much. It has been too long since our last meeting."

"Indeed. But I am here now. We're together."

"Yes, but only until the sun rises again," Kurt sniffled. "Can't you see? We cannot keep meeting in secret like this!"

"I hate it, too," the blonde sighed. "But what else can we do?"

"I will run away," Kurt declared. "I will run away from home, from all of them…from my parents…"

"No," Samuel said firmly. "You cannot. I will not let you, my love."

Kurt buried his nose into Samuel's chest. "But…I love you."

"I love you, too," Samuel stroked Kurt's soft hair. "But I cannot let you give up your life…your birthright…"

"I'd throw it all away just to have a chance with you," Kurt closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of his lover as the snow fell gently around them.

"I do not understand why you are so kind to me. We are from two different worlds."

Kurt nodded. "Yes. But there was just something about you that attracted me. I could not stay away for long. You are more than just my lover, Samuel. You are my best friend. I have never had a friend before you, someone I can tell all of my deepest secrets to. If only you…"

"I know," Samuel kissed his forehead sweetly. "But you are a prince, Kurt, and I am just a peasant boy. We can never be together, don't you see?"

"When I am King," Kurt held up his head proudly. "My word will be law. And I can make you my Queen if I decree it."

"I would love nothing more," Samuel said, fondly stroking Kurt's pale cheek.

"Can you stay long?" Kurt murmured, shivers tingling up and down his spine from Samuel's gentle touch.

"As long as you want me to, my love."

"Oh, I wish it weren't so cold," Kurt's teeth chattered, despite the furs he was wearing.

"Come," Samuel took his hand. "I know where we can go." He led the young prince to a nearby stable, empty of everything but hay and the occasional animal dropping. "Here," he settled in a corner, bringing Kurt down with him. He allowed Kurt to lie across him, draping an old horse blanket over the both of them. "Is this suitable, your highness?"

"Please, Samuel. I told you not to address me formally," Kurt said. He liked that Samuel called him "Kurt", and not "prince" or "your highness". It was exhilarating to be called by a common name, to sneak around with a lover, the risk of being caught ever-present.

"My apologies, Kurt. But is this to your liking?"

"It's not the palace," Kurt giggled. "But as long as I'm with you, I don't care where I am."

"I wish we did not have to do this. I wish I could just love you out in public, and not be reduced to meeting by nightfall as we are now."

"But the moonlight is so romantic," Kurt sighed wistfully. "And isn't it so pretty tonight? The river frozen and the forest glistening under all the snow…all of the lights in the village and up at the palace…"

"I think the prettiest thing," Samuel said, "is right here in my arms."

Kurt's breath hitched. "Do you mean that, Samuel?"

"I do," the blonde leaned down to lay a chaste kiss upon the snow prince's lips.

"Oh," Kurt whispered, breath being stolen from him by the older boy's lips. He leaned up for another one, arms outstretched, searching for something to grab on to. He hated being royal. He hated being told what to do and where to go. He hated all of the formal ceremonies and the ladies of the court being shoved at him, although he had no interest in them. Most of all, he hated not being allowed to love who he wanted to love. _When I am King,_ he thought, gazing into Samuel's intense eyes, _I will pass a law decreeing that people will be allowed to love whomever they want to love, regardless of birth status or gender or even religion_.

"Will you permit me to kiss you again?" Samuel asked, trying to read the expression on Kurt's face.

"Yes," Kurt murmured. "I will permit you to kiss me a thousand times if you should like to."

"I should love to," Samuel whispered, kissing Kurt deeply, eliciting a soft moan from the ice prince's throat. He laid a passionate kiss to Kurt's swanlike neck, at the hollow of his throat, and to his sharp collarbone.

"Please…let us consummate our love tonight!" Kurt cried out as Samuel continued to kiss his neck.

"What, here? In an old stable? Outside of the marriage bed?" Such a thing was unheard of, and yet…and yet, Samuel wanted to take his snow-white queen so badly, to have him right then and there.

"Yes…yes, please, right here, right now," Kurt begged.

"I…I cannot," Samuel shook his head, eyes brimming with hot tears. "I cannot, Kurt."

Kurt's blue-grey eyes clouded over. "But I thought you loved me."

"I do, Kurt, but…I cannot give myself to you, or you to me. You know the law…"

"Damn the law!" Kurt sat up suddenly. "Damn the law to hell!"

"Kurt!"

"If you won't have me, Samuel, then…then…then we're through!"

"Kurt, please, come back!" Samuel cried as the prince stormed off into the snowy night, heading back to the palace, a world that Samuel, the son of a woodcutter, would never know. "Please…don't go…"

It was too late; Kurt had already stolen away into the darkness.

"Prince Kurt, wherever have you been?" the anxious groomsman asked him as he walked furiously into his bedchamber.

"Out," he snapped. "Now, please leave me. I wish to be alone."

"Yes, your highness," the groomsman backed out of the expansive, richly decorated room, closing the door behind him. Kurt angrily punched the stone wall, embracing the stinging sensation that followed. Tears blinding him, he stumbled towards his canopy bed, falling into it, the goose-feather pillows rising around him as his body hit the mattress. Why? Why did Samuel not want to give himself over to him? Did he not know that Kurt was the prince, that he could order his swift execution, should he displease him or anger him in any way? The world was waiting on his every whim, and one day, he knew he would be ruling over his father's vast kingdom. He could build Samuel Evans up just as easily as he could destroy him. He closed his eyes, slipping into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Samuel walked to his family's cottage slowly, trying to push the image of Kurt's wounded expression out of his mind. He did not understand why Kurt was so upset. The law clearly stated that a prince or princess of the throne was not to fall in love with, nor marry, someone of common blood. It was true that, one day, this kingdom would be Kurt's, and he could make the laws. Still, that time was not now, and the law remained as it was. A tear snaked down Samuel's cheek, nearly freezing as the bitter wind stung his face. After several more minutes, he reached the small wood cottage at the edge of the village, a cottage barely large enough for Samuel, his two siblings, and his parents. He climbed the ladder that led directly to his bedroom, slipping easily into the window, crawling into his straw mattress on the floor. The wind whipped around, causing him to pull more and more blankets onto his shivering body. He couldn't help but to think that Kurt was at the heated palace in a large bedroom with a real bed in a room to himself, whereas Samuel had to share with his younger brother and sister. He shut his eyes, fitfully tossing and turning, finding sleep near impossible to come by.

It all started like any ordinary morning in the palace.

"Good-morning, son," Queen Elizabeth greeted her only son.

"Good-morning, mother," he went over to kiss her on the cheek in greeting.

"Did you sleep well, love?"

He nodded, for it was the truth. "Yes, mother."

"Well, get ready, Kurt. After breakfast, there is to be a joust, and then most likely a banquet to follow, should your father win."

Kurt nodded. "I wish my father the King all the best in the joust."

Queen Elizabeth smiled. "Yes," she said, looking fondly upon her young son. "But should anything happen…"

"I know," Kurt sighed. "The kingdom is laid to me."

"That's right," she said solemnly. "You'll make a fine King some day, my son, for you are the most fair and honest person that I know, and that is the truth."

Kurt winced, for he knew it was not the truth. His mother did not know of his affair with Samuel, nor could she ever. If word got out, he would be banished from the lands, perhaps even executed, depending on the whim of his father. It was not only against the law, to fall in love with a commoner, but also, to fall in love with someone of the same gender as he was.

"What is it, my son?" the queen asked, gazing in concern upon her child's pale face.

"Nothing, mother. I am worried about father's condition, is all. He is so very weak…"

"Do not worry, darling. I am sure he can win against the young man from the village."

Kurt paled. "Boy from the village? What boy from the village?"

"Oh, the woodcutter's son, Samuel Evans." Kurt gripped the table, feeling as he were about to faint. "Kurt, whatever is it?"

"Please excuse me, mother," Kurt muttered, leaping up from the dining table and running for the door. He ran through the halls, trying to avoid the curious stares and his mother's voice calling after him. He did not stop running until he had reached the palace grounds, coming to rest under an oak tree, breathing heavily, trying to process the news.

Kurt regained his breath and strength, making his way towards the joust, knowing his absence would be questioned if he did not attend. He lingered for a moment around where the opponents prepared, hoping to catch a glimpse of Samuel. Finally, he spotted him, running up the blonde boy.

"Your highness," Samuel said stiffly, bowing slightly.

"Samuel," Kurt breathed. "About last night…I am so sorry…"

"I am, too. Sorry to believe that you, the prince, could have ever loved me, just the woodcutter's son."

"I wish I could prove that I love you," Kurt hung his head, feeling very much like he'd been punched in the gut.

"You'll understand, when we're older, why we never would have worked out," Samuel attended to his horse. "Why have you come to talk to me? I am fighting your father, in case you had not noticed."

"I know," Kurt murmured. "But I could not keep away. I have come to make amends. If you would like…I would be honored if you would keep this token close to your heart whilst you fight this morning." He held out an ivory handkerchief, his initials embroidered into the corner.

"I cannot…" Samuel started to say, but Kurt could see the hesitation in his eyes. The trumpets sounded, signaling that the match was to start in a few moments.

"Please," Kurt insisted. "Please, Samuel."

"Very well," the older boy sighed, taking it and sliding it under his armor carefully. "I will return it to you afterwards. Now, go on and sit with your mother."

"I love you," Kurt whispered before he ran out of the tent, dashing towards his mother.

"Where were you?" she asked in confusion and concern.

"I just needed to take a walk…clear my head…"

"At least the snow has stopped," she nodded, making sure her son was appropriately dressed for the nippy weather.

"Why are we having a joust in December, anyway?" the prince grumbled.

"Hush, Kurt. Now cheer for your father." He sighed, clapping as they announced his father. He tried not to let his emotions betray him when his love was announced as the opposer. He knelt his head, pretending to fix his knitted scarf and woolen mittens.

Kurt closed his eyes as the trumpets blared again, not wanting to watch this match. It was either his father or the boy whom he loved deeply; only one could win. He prayed that there would be no fatalities this time around, unlike in an infamous joust last year. His mother smiled gently, knowing her son was not fond of these events; he much preferred the jovial festivals that involved dancing and masques. She watched as the joust went on, her husband circling the young man, no more than seventeen, just a year older than her son. She could not imagine a mother's terror to have her child fight in an event such as this, where there was a very real possibility of death. Luckily (or unlikely, she supposed, depending on how you viewed it), the match was over quickly. She watched in terror and relief as her husband unhorsed the young Evans boy, the latter falling to the hard ground. Kurt, whom she had not realized had been watching, cried out. "Samuel!" She gave him a strange look, watching him start to run down to the arena, but froze in fear as they carried Samuel's unmoving body away towards the palace. He turned towards her, panic written across his face. She tried to call out to him, but he was already taking off towards the distant castle. Out of the corner of her eye, something fluttered on the field. She walked curiously towards it, picking it up and turning it over in her hand, realizing that it was her son's handkerchief. She wondered what it had been doing down there, if he'd merely lost it, or…

…or if he'd willingly given it to Samuel, a declaration of love.

Samuel awoke an hour later. He blinked, trying to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. He supposed he was in a spare bedroom in the palace. Looking down, he could see bandages wrapped around his ribcage, wincing as he tried to move. Looking to his left, he saw a brunette figure, head down, sitting in a chair beside the bed that he found himself lying in. "Kurt?"

The boy snapped his head up. "Samuel!" He closed his eyes briefly in relief. "Oh, Samuel, you worried me so! I thought…I thought…"

"I'm not that easy to kill," Samuel said, eyes shining with humor.

"No," Kurt murmured. "No, you are not." Samuel glanced around the room, surprised to find that it was void of guards. "I sent them all away," Kurt said, noticing the blonde's confused expression. "They could not argue with me."

"Your token…where is it?" Samuel asked, groaning as his leg began to throb painfully.

"I do not know," Kurt's eyes widened. "I do hope nobody found it."

The doors banged open, King Burt striding in, followed by a legion of men. Kurt immediately stood at attention, respecting his father. "What is the meaning of _this_?" the king hissed, waving Kurt's handkerchief in his face.

"Where did you find that?"

"Your mother found it on the field after the joust," he snapped. Kurt noticed his mother slip quietly into the corner of the room, looking guilty. "Why was this found in the spot where Evans was unhorsed?"

"I…"

"Do you love him?"

"I…" Kurt's eyes widened in terror.

"_Do you love him, Kurt?"_

Kurt gulped; he could not lie. "Yes," he said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

"You sicken me," King Burt said in a low, harsh voice. "You are not my son."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Samuel spoke up. "It is not Prince Kurt's fault."

"What was that?"

"It is not Prince Kurt's fault, sire. I accepted his token; I am to blame. He was merely being courteous towards his guest."

"Do you love him?" King Burt asked in a dangerous voice.

"I cannot lie to you, Your Majesty. I am afraid I have fallen deeply in love with your son."

Kurt froze, astounded by Samuel's admission. "Samuel…"

"We cannot lie any longer, Kurt. I love you, and I proudly admit that now."

"I love you, too," Kurt murmured, reaching over to take Samuel's hand in his own.

"Oh, Kurt," Queen Elizabeth rushed to embrace her son.

"No, Elizabeth," King Burt held her back. "He is not our son."

"But…"

"No. He is not our son, Bess."

"Kurt," she sobbed. "Oh, please, Burt…our only son…"

"I have no son," he said bitterly. "And tomorrow, Samuel is to be executed at dawn, and Kurt banished from the kingdom."

"No," the queen shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No!"

"My word is final," the king said, shooting Kurt a disgusted glare before turning and walking out of the room, the queen having no choice but to follow him.

"No," Kurt dared to breathe. "No…no…" he collapsed to the floor, sobbing as he realized what was to happen.

"Kurt…listen to me," Samuel said in a soft voice. "Do not cry for me. I have lived my life. I have gotten to know you, the only true friend I have ever had. And if I am to die tomorrow, I will die still in love with you."

"Oh, Samuel," Kurt gasped through his sobs. "I am so sorry! Oh, this is all my fault!"

"No, Kurt, it is not. Believe me, it is not. It is true, I am young, and I was looking forward to a future with you. But a future without you is not one I can foresee. I would rather die a man in love than a man convicted of a crime that he was not guilty of. I love you, that much I know, and by law, this is a crime. I am guilty of loving you, so I must be punished."

Kurt crawled into the large bed next to his lover, carefully wrapping his slender arms around Samuel's muscular figure, pressing his nose to the back of Samuel's neck. "May I ask you of one thing before you are to…to die?"

"Anything," Samuel breathed. "Anything at all."

"I want to make love to you. Tonight." Samuel's body stiffened. "It is our last chance," Kurt rushed on. "We have one last night together before you are to leave this earth and I am to be exiled. Please…let us consummate our love…it is all I ask of you."

"Yes," Samuel said after several moments. "Yes. I will make love to you tonight."

"They will leave you here overnight," Kurt said quietly, "because of your injuries. They will keep you closely guarded, so that you do not escape, but I know a secret passageway into here. If all else fails, I will bribe the guards with some gold. I will come for you at midnight," he kissed Samuel's cheek tenderly before getting up with a heavy heart.

Nothing was going to be as it was before.

True to his word, Kurt slipped into Samuel's room at the stroke of midnight. "Samuel," he breathed, rushing to embrace the blonde.

"Kurt," Samuel sighed, holding him close. "I was worrying that you wouldn't come."

"I couldn't not say goodbye, Samuel."

"You look like an angel," Samuel smoothed the prince's hair back, taking in the sight of the pale boy, who was wearing a snow-white nightshirt that complemented his pale skin-tone. "An angel who saved my life."

"I fear I have not, for you are to die in a few hours."

"Still, you have saved me," Samuel kissed Kurt gently. "And now, as I promised, I will give myself to you." Kurt blushed deeply as Samuel slipped his nightshirt over his head, leaving him only in a pair of silken under-pants. "You're beautiful," Samuel kissed him again. "So beautiful…Kurt…" he ran his hands over Kurt's pale chest, causing the younger boy to shiver.

"Please, Samuel…let me undress you…" Kurt whispered. Samuel nodded, permitting the snowy boy to take his own nightshirt off, placing it on the stone floor. Unlike Kurt, Samuel was not wearing under-pants, as his family could not afford new ones, and his other ones, he now realized, were in the wash; Samuel was completely naked. Kurt inhaled sharply, never having seen another man entirely nude before. He felt his manhood harden, straining against the material of the fabric that covered it. Samuel palmed it curiously, causing it to harden even more. Kurt moaned, straddling the older boy, breathing heavily as Samuel pulled his erect manhood out of his under-pants. His breathing quickened as Samuel stroked it. Kurt had never felt such sensations, and he was not ashamed to admit that he enjoyed them very much. He gasped as hot, sticky fluids erupted from the end of his shaft. He didn't know what surprised him more; that he enjoyed such a sexual act, or that Samuel's own manhood was very, very hard. Kurt had heard the ladies of the court speak of "going down" on a man, of taking his parts in their mouths. Curiously, he slid down between the blonde's toned legs, taking his erection into his mouth, finding that he didn't mind it. Minutes later, Samuel climaxed.

"My God," he groaned. Kurt moved back up into his arms, and Samuel held him closely. "My God, I love you."

"I love you, too," Kurt murmured. After a while of cuddling, the two made love, losing their precious virginities to each other. They slept afterwards until the sun began to peek out from the horizon. "I must go," Kurt said, panic-stricken, knowing that Samuel was to be executed within the hour.

"You'll always be with me, Kurt," Samuel took Kurt's pale hands in his own. "In here," he moved Kurt's hands to his heart, letting the younger boy feel his heartbeat.

Kurt lifted Samuel's hands to his own cheeks. "I love you, Samuel. Always."

"I love you, too. Now, go, before we get caught." Kurt dressed quickly, running out of the room, going to his own bedchamber to dress for the execution, which he was being forced to attend as his last public event. Hands trembling, he dressed quickly, dashing to the northern commons, the place of such public executions. He knew that Samuel was to die of beheading, a thought that sickened him to his stomach. He could not understand how his father could be so cruel as to kill the man that his own son loved. Forced to stand in the front row, he shook as Samuel was brought to the scaffold. Queen Elizabeth tried to comfort her son, but was deftly reminded that Kurt was no longer hers. With a heavy heart, she turned her attention to the guards and the blonde boy—hardly a man, she thought—standing on the wooden stage.

"I am to die today," Samuel said, voice free and strong, "because I have committed the crime of being in love with the prince. I do plead guilty to this charge, but the guilt is only in the word of the law, not in my heart, for in my heart, I love the prince, and even in death, I will continue to love him." He kneeled down in the straw, lowering his head onto the block, looking straight ahead, not wanting to lock eyes with Kurt, although he would love nothing more than to have Kurt's face be the last thing he would see in this world. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the executioner's axe swish in the air, not wanting to see Samuel's beautiful head be severed from his body. The small crowed cheered as the blonde head fell to the ground. Kurt dared to open his eyes, and promptly vomited at the sight. Head spinning, he ran, ran, ran until he could not run any longer.

"Please, oh baby, don't go." The words still ran in his head, and they always would.


End file.
